


Touch

by RoTheWriter



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21992035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoTheWriter/pseuds/RoTheWriter
Summary: Merlin is pretty sure he has singlehandedly introduced touch to Camelot.Except to one person.Arthur Pendragon.Basically, a little fic about platonic (and not so platonic) hugs.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 505





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy x 
> 
> My heart is still a little broken, so here I am again.

Merlin was a touchy-feely kind of person.  
He knew that. In his defense, Ealdor was a touchy-feely kind of place, touch was the way that they kept connected, the way they showed love. It was a casual part of everyday life.  
He had expected many things coming into Camelot, but having to remind himself that not everyone here liked to be constantly touching, or that the simple act of brushing against someone's shoulder was a catalyst for widespread rumours wasn't on the list.  
As the years went by in Camelot however, Merlin felt safe to say that he introduced touch to Camelot.  
It was in the way that Gaius now clapped Merlin's back for getting the remedy to something right, and the way that Gwen would grab his wrist to get his attention.  
It seemed as though everyone in Camelot wanted to be touching Merlin, not that he was complaining. 

The knights were the worst offenders by far, the touch with them either came easily or seemed to be a big thing for them. It started with Lancelot, who would casually throw his arm around Merlin's shoulder frequently or ruffle his hair as he passed him in a crowd. Gwaine, of course, jumped head first onto the band wagon – he would seemingly always have contact with Merlin when they were in the same room. Sometimes it was gaudy and invasive like grabbing Merlin's hand and twirling him round when he was making flirtatious jokes, and other times it was subtle and not properly thought out, like his hand dropping onto Merlin's knee as he laughed as they sat around the fire on a quest.

Percival was slow to touch, a startled look on his face when Merlin squeezed his forearm when his eyes looked lost in the fire, and a slight flinch when Merlin stroked his forehead the one time Percy had fallen ill and Merlin was checking for a temperature. But once he got past the initial awkward patting Merlin's shoulder as a thank you and the lingering hand there with a decisive nod and a quick retreat he warmed up to it all at once. Merlin would find himself being helped up onto his horse by the taller man, or a warm arm resting round him at the campfire. Or the one dreadful time he will never forget when Percy swept him up from the ground and onto his shoulders without second thought whilst the rest of the knights cheered.  
Leon had always had a recognisably gentler approach to the "horse play" the knights had when it came to Merlin. He would hit Merlin's shoulder in the same way that he would with Arthur, but his hand would linger and he'd squeeze his arm with a smile on his face. Merlin had always appreciated that, it made him feel as though he was more a part of the group. He never exactly thought that some of his closest friends would be the crown prince of Camelot's favourite knights, but there he was. To be fair, he never quite thought that the words best friend would also trigger thoughts of said prince.  
Elyan was Gwen's brother so there was an unspoken respect between them, Merlin saw it most in the subtle touches, the lingering hand when Elyan helped him carry something heavy, or the way he helped teach him how to hold a sword properly. Once he'd gotten past his initial hatred of Mordred the boy was altogether one of the most touchy of them all. He had been with Arthur, and Merlin's only concern with that was Arthur being equally as touchy in return. That always puzzled Merlin a little, but he put it down to Mordred being younger the rest of the knights and Arthur looking out for him like an older brother. Anyway, once Merlin had revealed the prophecy to him, and Mordred had made a binding pact to ensure that he could never do so, Merlin had grown to love the boy. Mordred loved hugs more than anything and Merlin was happy to oblige. Mordred would appear out of nowhere sometimes and tackle him into a hug, magic bubbling beneath his skin. 

The rumours were at their most life-threatening with Morgana. She'd often stroke up and down his forearm with her nails as magic fizzled under her fingertips when she was bored of him teaching her the written side of magic. That was always okay, although her magic felt like fire and it burned a little, as long as it remained within one of their chambers. It mainly started being a problem when she would do it in meetings, or feasts. Merlin hated Uther's gaze and the mischief in Morgana's eyes when she did it. He also hated that Arthur always looked away. 

The girls in the kitchen adopted Merlin and the touching him craze in seconds. Cook had taken him under her wing with a firm whack of the hand if he tried to steal food but secretly sneaking him more whenever no one else was looking and squeezing his cheeks. Blanche was next, she was the shortest and Merlin often found himself being used to climb to the highest shelves in the stock room. Isla would grab his face and pull him down to kiss his forehead whenever she decided that he was "being adorable". Tom would swipe a flour covered hand across Merlin's face and laugh at the result. Gilda would be there the next second to help him wipe it off. 

Uther was the biggest shock. It wasn't anything major in comparison to everyone else in Camelot, not by any means. It was strange by Uther's standards. Merlin had been hurrying down a corridor in pursuit of something for Arthur when Uther had called out to him. Merlin would have brushed anyone else off, it was the day of Arthur's coronation, he really didn’t have the time, but he was still the king for now.  
"Merlin, my boy, could I talk to you?"  
"Uh, yes sire?"  
Uther seemed as though he didn't quite know how to approach the topic and panic rose in his mind that he had suspicions of Morgana and Merlin's friendship.  
"I am not quite on my deathbed now, but I have lived a long life," Uther paused, and then grabbed Merlin's shoulder in the same way he often did to Arthur, his son, "What I am trying to say is that I am old, and maybe a little stuck in my ways, but I am not too old to see who Arthur will look to for advice during his rule. And it is not me. In some ways I feel as though I should be ashamed that he wouldn't turn to his father. But I also know that I would never have turned to my own. Merlin, when I employed you it was as a reward for your saving of my sons life, and I know that you have continued in that role. Look after him."  
With that, Uther lets go of him and leaves him stood there, bewildered. 

So, yeah. Merlin is pretty sure he has singlehandedly introduced touch to Camelot.  
Except to one person.  
Arthur Pendragon. 

Arthur has always been like his father in this regard, though Merlin hates to notice the way he seems to warm up to the knights antics regarding the hugging, shoulder slapping, and whatnot over the years. Just not with Merlin.  
Not that it affects Merlin, he couldn't care less. Really. He totally doesn't think that being the other side to the coin might actually mean something, not at all.  
So forgive him if he lingers his fingertips a second too long on Arthur's chest as he helps the King dress, or allows his hand to fall on the man's shoulder as he pours him his drink at breakfast, or wishes they'd hug after he has the decency to not die on a quest.  
To be fair, Arthur does seem to warm up to Merlin over the years. He's less likely to pull away when Merlin does put his hand on his shoulder, or Merlin will catch him leaning in rather than away when Merlin is helping him dress. There are a few pivotal moments obviously, "horseplay", or a shoulder squeeze, maybe they've woken up closer together than they fell asleep on quests once or twice. But it's never in the way that Arthur treats his knights, or Morgana, or even Gwen. 

The turning point in how Merlin feels about all that comes during a quest, when Merlin almost, maybe, nearly dies. He comes too once the smoke clears, to Arthur knelt next to him, hand at Merlin's head, fingertips skirting gingerly at his hairline. He stops the second he realises that Merlin's awake, Gwen and Morgana fall next to him asking what happened. Gwen and Morgana tend to his wounds, Percival carries him to the horses, and the knights watch over him the best they can on the trek back to Camelot. Arthur stays well away. 

The next time Merlin comes to he's in Arthur's chambers, on the chaise longue in front of a well-stocked fire, and whilst the King himself is nowhere to be seen, Merlin silently thanks him for allowing them to put him here, rather than in Gauis' drafty chambers in the dead of winter.  
Merlin attempts to sit up, and is immediately confronted by Gwen and Morgana rushing over to help him.  
"Merlin!" Gwen shouts, as she rushes over and helps him up.  
"How're you feeling Merlin?" Morgana asks as Gwen presses a wet cloth to his head.  
"I'm okay, how long have I been out?"  
"Two days," Gwen tells him.  
"Really?" Merlin asks.  
"Yeah, speaking of which, you must be hungry, I'll run down to the kitchens and grab Gauis on my way back," Gwen says, hurrying off.  
Morgana smiles, and waits until the door closes before asking,  
"How do you do it Merlin?"  
"Do what? Get myself into terrible situations where I nearly die constantly, because I personally blame Arth-"  
"Make him care so much he can't bear to touch you,"  
"Morgana, what in Camelot's name are you talking about?"  
"We see it, you know. How much you mean to each other," Morgana says with a small smile, "you should have heard him when you went down, or seen his face when we finally caught up to him, he looked petrified. His hand was shaking so much when he tried checking that you were okay."  
"He's just worried he'll have to find a new servant," Merlin jokes to diffuse whatever this is.  
"Merlin," Morgana says, giving him a look, "we both know that you're not just a servant. You're his most trusted advisor, his closest friend. Why on earth would he let you stay in his chambers, or have tended to you during the nights you've been out, if he didn't care?"  
Just as Merlin is thinking of some aloof and witty comment to get rid of the conversation, the others, including the knights and Arthur, burst into the chamber and Merlin is bombarded with conversation to get away from this one.

Later, when Merlin is feeling better enough to finally make it up to Arthur's chambers alone, Merlin finds Arthur alone.  
"Merlin, I gave you the rest of the day and tomorrow off, what are you doing?" Arthur asks, standing up from his seat by the fire.  
Merlin doesn't say a word, worried he'll screw the moment up. He just puts his hands on Arthur's shoulders, gentle, worried as if Arthur will shy away. Arthur looks confounded.  
"Gaius, uh, Gaius said you need all the rest that you can get," he says.  
Slowly, he snakes his arms around Arthur's neck and pulls him into a hug, the only one they've ever had in five years of knowing one another. To his surprise Arthur eventually wraps his arms around Merlin's waist and pulls him in closer, dropping his head into the crook of Merlin's shoulder. 

Merlin will admit that, after this particular moment, things change in the touchy-feely regard, a lot.  
Sure, Merlin had wanted this, the outward shows of affection like they all do. But Arthur is brazen in this now things have changed. 

He'll tug on Merlin's sleeve when he wants his advice in a meeting, or squeeze his wrist as a silent thanks when Merlin is serving him food at a banquet whilst turned away speaking to one of the knights. Whilst Gwaine's hand drops to Merlin's knee at the campfire, Arthur's arm drapes around Merlin's waist and, though the others can't see it, Merlin feels his fingers trace patterns into his side.  
Arthur has always been the first to grab Merlin when they are being attacked, shove him behind and protect him. But now he'll follow him round after, when Merlin is checking over everyone's wounds. Offer to clean up any wounds Merlin has sustained, worse still, actually do it. His brow creasing as he concentrates on gently wiping Merlin's grazed hand. 

Merlin begins to see it.  
It's the knock on Merlin's door at 3am, and Arthur being on the other side.  
"I couldn't sleep."  
"I could mix you up something if you wa-,"  
"Can we just talk for a bit?"  
"Um, sure," 

It's in Arthur Fucking Pendragon's sleepily half dipped eyes as he sits across from Merlin on his bed as they talk about nothing at all.  
It's in the way that he wakes up the next morning sat up against his headboard, with the King's head on his thigh.  
It's in that becoming such a tradition that the majority of nights Merlin will find himself letting Arthur in without thinking.  
"Your bed is very uncomfortable," Arthur says, as the winter threatens more snow.

"Well how would you know? All you've got to compare it to is your royal one," Merlin replies with a sneer, but he knows what it means.

And Old Deities above is Arthur's bed so much more comfortable. How can a bed be this much better?  
Maybe it's the company. No, nope, nope, cannot be that, Merlin tells himself. Arthur chooses then to roll over and wrap around him. So, maybe, there's a chance, that it is. 

It's in the way that Arthur will come with him to collect firewood, leaving his band of jeering knights behind, just to carry on some inconsequential conversation from earlier.  
In the way that Arthur is looking at him struggling to carry the branches. In the way he takes it off of him and under one arm with ease and just smiles, no remark about him having to do the servant's work. 

It's in the way he finds out Merlin has magic. Morgana on the floor to his right, passed out from the spell they just used, the knights all knocked out, Merlin stroking the mane of the manticore as it dies, apologising that Camelot doesn't understand yet. In the way that a gloved hand joins his in this, that a whispered "I'm sorry" comes from the King's mouth, that his hand comes to rest over Merlin's. 

It's in the whispered conversation after, at some ungodly hour, beneath red sheets:  
"You should have told me."  
"I couldn't."  
"I know." 

It's in the legalisation of magic in the next season.  
It's in Arthur's constant rejection of proposals.  
It's in the way that when Merlin finally asks why the King wants to rule alone, and the King responds by pushing him up against a wall in an alcove of the castle and kisses him.  
It's in the way that he responds that he isn't ruling alone. 

Merlin sees it. 

It's a love story, Arthur's destiny, it always was. 

So, Merlin can one-hundred percent, without a doubt, claim that it was he who brought the magic of touch to Camelot, and perhaps a touch more magic than Uther would have ever allowed too.


End file.
